


The Girl

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: (for now) - Freeform, Awkward Flirting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Meat Loaf, Guilty Pleasures, Porn with too much plot, Reader uses female pronouns, Roommates, Songfic, Walk With Elias, behold all my weaknesses, oh my god they were roommates, serenades, thirst party saturday, this got so long, wrestlers without the wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 18:42:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14960027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: This is incredible self-indulgent nonsense, starring handpicked tunes from The Classic Crime and City And Colour.[x-posted to Tumblr]Enjoy!





	The Girl

A self-described _musician_ had answered your ad for a roommate. You sighed heavily, hid your misgivings and prayed to the gods of space sharing that their instrument of choice wasn’t drums or trombone. You weren’t _exactly_ in a position to be picky.

 

You made the effort to put on something decent when the guy came over to have a look-around, not wanting him to think that you were just some young woman with an apartment you couldn’t afford. The person who showed up was… _not_ what you were expecting at all.

 

He was _huge_. Almost scarily so. Six foot if he was an inch, with a thick beard that bordered on ‘hipster unkempt’ and brown hair that reached past his shoulders. He had been in the process of gathering all of that hair into a messy bun when you opened the door, and your first exchange was him mumbling, “ _H’lo, s’ nice t’ meet you._ ” past the elastic held between his teeth at the same time that you asked, “ _Elias Samson?_ ”

 

He had finished tying back his hair and given you a nod. “ _Yep, that’s me_.”

 

“ _I’m not going to lie, I expected someone a little more…_ _ **musician-y**_ _._ ” Pale, thin, plaid shirt…the list went on but he had simply shrugged, obviously unfazed by your expectations. You had shown him around the apartment and he was essentially silent the whole time. He departed with a simple promise to deliver his first and last promptly.

 

You knew precious little about him, aside from the fact that he had no criminal records, he was _very_ busy and he played the guitar. His career must be going well, you theorized, if he could afford the rent. He kept to himself for the most part, usually coming in well after you were in bed. Once he seemed to have settled in (which took a few weeks) you slowly grew accustomed to barely catching soft strains of acoustic guitar from his room when you thought he was sleeping. Inspiration truly was a fickle mistress, you guessed.

 

Then one night, to your utter surprise, you arrived home from work and he was in the _kitchen_. Wearing one of your aprons, even! His hair was braided back up and away from his face, although a few strands had escaped to curl around his ears. Elias whirled when he heard the door shut behind you, bearing an expression of guilt.

 

“Oh! I uh, I thought you…fuck, I’m sorry, I figured I would have all of this picked up by the time you were home.” He apologized, twisting the hem of the apron nervously in his hands. “I only need maybe five more minutes, if that’s alright?”

 

“Hey, you pay half the rent. Use of the kitchen is included in that.” You assured him, raising an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t you be able to use the kitchen?”

 

“I mean, I’ve lived in other places with shared… _areas_ and stuff, sometimes kitchens are off-limits.” Elias mumbled. “I know I didn’t ask beforehand, either.”

 

“Don’t look so scared!” You laughed. “You look like you think I’ll kick you out. You’re _fine_. I utilize the kitchen so rarely anyhow. Mostly I just microwave things.” You waved off his concern, trying to look over his shoulder. “What are you making?”

 

“Oh! I-It’s…uh, I-I mean I was trying to…” He stammered for a few more seconds while you took in how absolutely _adorable_ he looked in the too-small, floral print apron. “I wanted to make dinner.” He finally managed to say, his voice steadying once he seemed to decide on his course of action. “I know we haven’t really interacted much since I moved in, mostly because of my schedule. So I uh, figured I would make dinner as a sort of olive branch. You’re always eating those microwave things and…I mean, I don’t _mind_ cooking at all when I’ve got the time for it, so…” He trailed off, his face tight.

 

“You made us dinner?” Your stomach, which had been assaulted by delicious smells the moment you set foot in the door, gave a hearty rumble that made you freeze.

 

Elias chuckled. “From the sound of things, I’m guessin’ you didn’t stop for lunch? Take off your coat and stay a while.” He appeared to have regained his footing, his voice evening back out into its usual baritone.

 

You sat down at the kitchen table and watched him finish up what he was making, idle small talk filling in the silence. You took the opportunity to actually _look_ at him (alright, okay, you were _definitely_ ogling), observing the powerful shift of muscles in his arms and the way his raggedy jeans hugged his thighs. There was no harm in looking, you decided. He still didn’t _look_ like a musician to you. At least not one that played an acoustic guitar. The bassist for Metallica, maybe…

 

When Elias did sit down he still had the apron on, his face pensive behind his beard as you took a bite of the meal he had prepared.

 

You hummed in contentment, certain that you looked ridiculous as you dug into the delicious food with zeal. Elias chuckled again, the pensive expression smoothing out. “You like it? I can give you the recipe, if you want.”

 

You jabbed your fork at him, shaking your head. “Heck no, I’m keeping you around to cook for me. If I tried to make this I’d probably just fuck it up. I’m promoting you to head chef.” Elias actually laughed aloud at that, the noise sounding like it escaped from him accidentally. He grimaced at the volume of his own laugh and you found the courage to nudge him gently in the ribs. “Not much for the giggles?” You queried through your mouthful.

 

“Not for a while. Things have been hard.” He said simply. “Nice of you to ask, though. I appreciate it.”

 

“Anyone who cooks like you deserves at least a _little_ concern for their wellbeing.” You replied teasingly. Elias smiled, seeming strangely grateful.

 

…

 

“ _So here’s to living life miserable, and here’s to all the lonely stories that I’ve told…_ ”

 

You rolled over onto your stomach, opening your eyes and realizing dimly that the door of your room was ajar. Elias must have taken up in the living room instead of his own room, normally you could only _just_ hear him. You closed your eyes again, sighing and lacing your arms beneath your pillow. At least the song was calm. You knew you should probably go scold him for waking you up, but you were simultaneously too comfortable and tired to move.

 

“ _Maybe drinking wine would validate my sorrow, every man needs a muse and mine could be the bottle…_ ”

 

He sounded sad, his singing plaintive and soft. You hummed in your throat, snuggling your pillow as you wondered at that.

 

“ _Maybe then I could sleep at night, I wouldn’t lie awake until the morning light_ …”

 

You drifted back off to sleep hugging your pillow tight, soothed by the gentle croon of his voice and the quiet rainfall on the window of your bedroom.

 

…

 

A few nights later saw you out on the tiny deck, watching the steady downpour and lazily wondering if you ought to go inside. It had been sweltering all day and you were enjoying the change in temperature brought on by the sudden rainstorm, but there were dishes in the sink that had been there for two days (you knew because you were the one that had put them there) and you _really_ ought to clean them before-

 

The glass door from the kitchen slid open until it hit the end of its track with a loud _bang!_ , scaring you stiff. Elias stumbled onto the deck and proceeded to peel his shirt off with no ceremony at all, wringing out the worn fabric and growling under his breath about the weather.

 

“Christ, warn a girl, will you?” You huffed, the sound of your voice making him straighten up abruptly. “Damn near gave me a heart attack, whipping the door open like that.”

 

He turned on his heel, brown eyes wide underneath the soaking wet mess of his hair. “I didn’t, uh…I didn’t know you were out here.” He said finally, wringing his shirt even harder. “Sorry, I got caught in the storm and I was trying _not_ to drip all over everything in the hallway and the kitchen and…stuff.”

 

You got up from your seat, shaking your head at him. “Listen, far be it from me to turn down a striptease, but I prefer when they’re _planned_ , y’know? Stay put. I’ll go get you a towel.”

 

“I’m not–this isn’t-!” Elias sputtered indignantly.

 

“Ah ah, save it for when I return with the towel!” You sang, already halfway to the bathroom.

 

“This _isn’t_ a striptease!” He protested loudly. “I don’t even _know_ how to do that!”

 

“The neighbors can hear you, Elias.” You reminded him as you rummaged through the closet of the bathroom. The large man felt silent instantly and you snickered to yourself, tugging free one of your huge, fluffy towels. “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone about your side job.” You ribbed him when you handed over the towel.

 

Elias didn’t seem to hear you, focused on the towel. “This isn’t mine.” He said, and you watched curiously as his knuckles whitened with his hold on the fabric.

 

“Yeah, but yours are all hand towels. You need to _actually_ dry off, not just smear the rain around.”

 

“They’re _not_ -”

 

“They _literally_ are. Look, I know you sew hand towels together and stuff so that they’re bigger, but they’re not very absorbent. Just use that one. Please?” You implored. “You can even keep it if you want. I’ve got a whole set of them and I’m just one person, y’know?”

 

Elias shoved the towel into your hands with a curt shake of his head. “No. I’m not taking your things.”

 

“Alright, borrow it just for today, then?” You tried to give the towel back, but he was having none of it. Elias wordlessly draped the fabric over your shoulder and maneuvered past you back into the apartment, leaving you standing confused on the deck. Had you insulted him by bringing up his threadbare quilt-towels? Were you being too pushy? You smacked yourself on the forehead with a groan, certain you had ruined everything with your well-meaning gesture.

 

…

 

Elias didn’t seem to come home at all for nearly two weeks, or maybe you simply didn’t hear him come in. He hadn’t been much for conversation in the first place, so you weren’t really holding out on him breaking the silence first. You _were_ worried about wrecking the sort-of friendship you had started to have with him though, and you didn’t want to make things worse by throwing a haphazard apology in his face just so _you_ could feel better.

 

It was almost a relief to hear the jangle of keys and then the front door popping open late one night.

 

You were sprawled out on the couch, dutifully eroding a massive bowl of ice cream as you drowned your sorrows and re-watched the old _Beauty And The Beast_ TV series for the hundredth time. ‘Baby’ Ron Perlman was always _such_ a delight in full makeup, despite the tragedy of the hairstyle. Plus there was the added bonus of the lovely Linda Hamilton, Terminator slayer! What’s not to love?

 

Elias looked like he hadn’t expected your presence, his large body filling the doorway as he stared at you. You took in how haggard he appeared, beaten-up backpack slung over his shoulder, guitar case in hand, and immediately decided that your clumsy bridge-mending attempts could wait until he was rested. “Hey!” You said brightly, hopping to your feet and sliding your bowl of ice cream to the coffee table once you’d paused the episode.

 

“Hello.” Elias replied cautiously. He still hadn’t even stepped over the threshold.

 

“So I understand that you’re probably wiped out. I would like to talk to you at some point later about the whole…towel thing. When you’re more alive.” You stated in what you hoped was a firm tone, your hands on your hips as you did your best to maintain eye contact.

 

Samson looked blankly at you for a minute before realization seemed to dawn on him, and he waved a hand dismissively. “Forget about it. Not important.” He said, raising an eyebrow when you shook your head.

 

“Sorry, I can’t. I know I offended you and I’m going to make it up to you somehow. But like I said, we can talk about it later.” You said, slipping the heavy pack off his slouched shoulder and half-carrying it towards his room. _Wow_ , it was heavy! What did he carry around with him, _bricks?_

 

“What are you…wait, that’s got a lot of crap in it.” Elias protested, following you down the hall and easily taking his bag back. “Look, I appreciate the sentiment and stuff, but seriously-” You scowled up at him and he gave a weary sigh. “Alright, _fine_. Tomorrow.”

 

“Whenever you want.”

 

However, when tomorrow came and you found yourself pacing nervously in front of the couch, you wished you had rethought your choice. Elias was hunched over and staring at his hands in his lap, looking for all the world like he was waiting to be reprimanded. “Look, I know that I reacted…wrong.” He started as soon as you opened your mouth, as if he was trying to head you off. “I don’t have a lot, never really have. It stings a little.”

 

“I was going to apologize. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I just wanted you to be dry. I had my fair share of hand towel rub downs in my college days.” You said softly. “I really _do_ have too many towels for one person.”

 

He shook his head. “I know you only meant well. I overreacted because I was hot and exhausted, _and_ soaking wet. Then I had to leave, so it’s been festering and-”

 

“Oh! You _were_ gone? I wasn’t sure if I had upset you to the point of avoiding me.” You blurted out.

 

Elias snorted, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m a grown man, not some moody teenager. I’m not going to avoid you if we have a difference in opinions. The timing on this last tour was iffy, though, and I can see where it might lead you to believe something like that was going on. I’ll let you know when I leave next time, if that makes it easier? Gigs were slow for a while, but now it’s a two weeks gone, three days back sort of thing.”

 

You felt so incredibly dumb. Relieved that you hadn’t ruined anything (yet), but _incredibly_ dumb. “I seriously thought that I had upset you.”

 

“Well, I mean, you _did_. But it’s okay. I was being pissy and it isn’t like you would _know_ what upsets me. Let’s just put the whole thing behind us, alright? Fresh start.” Elias extended a hand to you.

 

“Alright.” You allowed, accepting the handshake and trying to hide your relief when he smiled. “Will I get to hear the story of your tour now?”

 

Elias’ smile thinned. “Eh, it was some pretty standard stuff. A few cities, a few songs, rabid fans screaming my name, you know how it is.” He joked after a momentary pause. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I uh…I have a lot of laundry to do, so if we’re all set here…” He trailed off awkwardly.

 

“Oh! Of course, absolutely. Do you need help with anything?” You offered, and he looked surprised.

 

“Nah, I’m not having you waste your day off folding clothes and shit.”

 

“Hey, I asked for it right? Besides, you only have three days off after touring for two _weeks!_ That’s _inhumane!_ ” You insisted.

 

Elias finally gave in after you pestered him for a few more minutes, grumbling under his breath that you “ _really didn’t have to_.” Once the first load was washed and dried, you tasked yourself with folding the multitude of scarves and bandannas he owned.

 

“Why so many of these?” You had to ask, holding up a raggedy piece of floral fabric.

 

“A lot of it is just extra bits from different things I’ve owned over the years. I try to get everything that I can out of clothing.” Elias fidgeted with the scarves currently wrapped around his wrists. “A loop of stretchy t-shirt can double as a hair tie and a scarf can be a headband, so I always have options. Plus, if I ever need to patch something quickly, I’ve already got it on hand. I just…carry a lot of them with me out of habit at this point. I mean for _ages_ everything I owned was either in my backpack or on my body.” He fell silent after that and you took the hint that story time had ended, returning your attention to the small mountain of accessories in front of you.

 

You wondered at the life he must have had before his current occupation, if he had to live out of his backpack. Maybe he had been a busker? There was still a little roughness to him, as though he hadn’t grown up with the right crowd and was wary of everyone’s intentions.

 

“Hey, stop thinking so hard.” Elias chided, making you start and glance over at him guiltily. “I know that look. Whatever it is, it’s not important, okay?”

 

You nodded and that seemed to satisfy him, as he resumed humming and went back to folding the shirt he had spread across his knees. “Can I make _you_ dinner sometime? You know, seeing as how you made me dinner and all.” You mumbled the last bit mostly to yourself, focusing on the battered hound’s-tooth pattern beneath your fingers.

 

“Correction: I made _us_ dinner. And…you can cook?” He asked skeptically. “Shit, wait, that was rude. Uh, I just didn’t know…I mean I assumed with all the microwave stuff, you uh…I’m gonna’ stop now.”

 

“I’m nowhere near your _caliber_ , if that’s what you’re getting at. But I’ve survived this long.” You pursed your lips and stuck out your tongue. “You jerk.”

 

“I’m bad at this.” Elias said bluntly after a second or two of silence. “If it’s any consolation, I’m like this with everyone. I don’t really…know how to talk without sounding like an asshole.” He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

 

“That’s no consolation at all! That means I’m not even cool enough for you to be a different kind of asshole to me. How rude can you get?” You whined, getting a fit of giggles when Elias started to stammer another apology.

 

“You were joking? Hey c’mon, fuck you.” He protested. “I thought you were serious! Don’t tease me. Jerk.”

 

“I’ll try not to abuse my power.” You replied with a grin, nudging his arm with your elbow. “Is it okay if I keep watching my TV show while I fold?”

 

“Hell sugar, it’s your TV.” Elias shrugged, glancing at the television screen when you queued up another episode of _Beauty And The Beast_.

 

You caught him peeking at the TV numerous times while you busied yourself folding clothes. You usually just had one of your shows on for background noise, but you supposed it could be more of a distraction for someone accustomed to making their own background noise. “Hey, should I turn this off? Sorry, I usually have something going so it’s a little less quiet in here.” You apologized after noticing that he had a small pile of unfolded shirts in his lap.

 

“What? Oh! Oh, shit. Whoops. No, it’s okay. Kinda’ got caught up in watching it. I don’t have time for a lot of TV.” His smile was brief and a touch bashful. “On the road it’s mostly just a lot of GPS and music in the car. By the time I get to my destination, I’m usually so tired I just drop. Don’t even take advantage of the questionable late night motel channel selection.”

 

“I swear, I know it’s dumb but sometimes I _really_ believe that shady motels and highway convenience stores exist in their own parallel dimension.” You confided, giggling when he nodded emphatically and spread his arms wide.

 

“Right? The veil obviously thins in those places. There’s dimensional crossover points in the Nevada desert, I’m _positive_ , and–and…” He paused, clearing his throat. “You uh, you weren’t being serious, were you.”

 

He sounded so dejected that you made the snap decision of letting him know one of your deep, dark secrets. “No, I was absolutely serious. Normally people think I’m nuts if I talk about that stuff though.”

 

“See, I’m a musician. People are more inclined to let me ramble or talk about crazy shit if I’m holding a guitar.” A _joke_ , an honest-to-God joke! You stared at him, even more flabbergasted when he _winked_ at you. “Anytime you wanna’ learn, just let me know sugar. We could write a song about the cracks in space-time.”

 

…

 

“ _I miss the Pacific Ocean and the northwestern air, and to run each of my fingers through the strands of her hair…_ ”

 

Something was different tonight. You wondered who he was singing about as you snuggled into your pillow. You had never heard this song before.

 

“ _I’ve been all over this country, lately, but I’ve been nowhere it seems, nowhere…_ ” Elias hummed for a bar or two and then paused. You heard him tuning up again, finger-picking over the strings. His guitar had the appearance of a lovingly-cared-for pawn shop special, and it didn’t hold a note for very long. “ _Found the cure for my landlocked blues, it’s comin’ home to you, comin’ home to you…_ ”

 

…

 

“I’m _hooooome!_ ” Elias sang as he shoved open the apartment door. He slung his pack off to the side, grinning when he caught sight of you on the couch. Without giving you a second to move or greet him in return, he flopped down next to you and quickly unsnapped the latches on his guitar case. “I’ve got a new one!” He said excitedly.

 

“What, new guitar?” You asked curiously.

 

“No no, new song!” He picked a little riff, the tune bouncy. You felt an unbidden blush rise on your face when he propped the body of the guitar up on his thigh, drawing your attention to the thick muscle bare inches from your own leg. But then, he started singing.

 

“ _I can’t get enough, of living in the city. I get off the bus, at Dexter and Denny. The sun’s coming up, over the lake to my east. And I feel the love, in the rhythm and the music of the street…_ ”

 

His voice wavered slightly. He didn’t know the song inside and out yet, and you found yourself smiling encouragingly. He smiled back, his voice gaining certainty and volume in equal measure.

 

“ _And no one is gonna’ take that away from me. So I pick up a Real Change paper as I walk on down the street…_ ” Elias learned most of his songs via a combination of ear, repetition and YouTube tutorials. In the short time that you had known him, you had only witnessed his new song excitement a handful of times.

 

It was still the absolute _cutest_ thing you’d ever seen, watching him bounce his leg in time with the song.

 

“ _Because vagabonds and troubadours built this city on punk rock chords, and I for one cannot ignore the facts. We will make music, ‘til no one refuses, we will take our airwaves back…_ ” Elias actually got to his feet, moving his whole body in time to the jaunty tune.

 

You felt like you were being serenaded, unable to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. Samson _smiled_ , a real smile, strumming a flourish and then stopping.

 

“I mean, there’s other verses. I just wanted to show off a little.” He admitted sheepishly. “People always want sad songs, House of The Rising Sun, whatever.” Like he couldn’t help it, he plucked the beginning notes to _Folsom Prison Blues_. “I love a sad song too, but there’s more to music than bein’ miserable all the damn time.”

 

“I wish more people shared your outlook.” You sighed. “I remember one time, I dated this guitarist–”

 

“Wait, don’t tell me.” Elias held up a hand to stop you. “He was an ‘ _artists suffer for their work_ ’ kinda’ guy, right?”

 

“Not only would the so-called ‘artist’ suffer, but his family, friends, et cetera.” You frowned at the memory. “He didn’t write, lyrics _or_ music. That was the lead singer’s job. But the way that he acted sometimes…it could get pretty bad.”

 

A large hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up. Elias looked perturbed, almost angry, brown eyes serious and mouth set in a firm line. “Are you alright?” He asked quietly. “With me, that is. I didn’t know that you had issues with someone like me before.”

 

“He was _nothing_ like you.” You scoffed. “He was tall and skinny, hair all over. A walking bear rug.” Elias raised an eyebrow at you, the gesture so familiar you nearly anticipated it. “You’re not _skinny!_ ” You protested. “Besides, you’re too quiet to be anything like him.”

 

“I can get loud.”

 

“ _Please_ don’t.”

 

“I was kidding, but your discomfort is duly noted. Anything else I oughta’ be thinking about?” Elias queried, slinging his guitar around so it hung by its strap.

 

You shook your head. “No, you’ve been fantastic to me as far as roommates go.” You replied honestly.

 

“Probably helps that I’m not around all that much.”

 

“Even when you are.”

 

He looked away, clearing his throat and silently rubbing the back of his neck instead of continuing the conversation. You got the feeling you were missing something, but half of you was certain it was just wishful thinking on your part.

 

…

 

You started awake, your eyes wide in the dark as you fought to catch your breath. The nightmare was still fresh in your mind and you cringed, twisting your sheets in your hands.

 

Mustering up the courage to leave your bed was always the hardest part, the mad dash for the door through the pitch-black of your room a gauntlet run of uncertain length and treachery. But as ever you managed it, wrenching open your bedroom door and fleeing into the living room. The area was well-lit with the peach glow of streetlights, your eyes slowly adjusting to the environment as you sank down onto the couch like always.

 

You curled up into a little ball, the flat sheet from your bed wrapped around you tightly. You weren’t sure how long you laid there, the sound of a door opening startling you out of your staring contest with the blank TV screen on the far wall. You froze, straining your ears for the footsteps that were sure to come. You shut your eyes tightly, a few tears escaping as the dream loomed in your mind. _This is stupid, I’m being stupid_ , you berated yourself frantically. The footsteps shuffled heavily across the carpet. All you could do was cower under your sheet and wait.

 

Without a word Elias cupped the back of your neck, raised your head, sat down and then lowered your head into his lap. His fingers rubbed against your scalp and he carefully began to untangle some snags in your hair. “Shh, I know you don’t actually want to talk. Just let me do this.” He murmured when you tried to explain yourself. “I don’t need to know right now. It’s okay.”

 

You rested your cheek on his thigh, still hiccupping. He hushed you again, stroking your hair and then beginning to hum quietly. You slowly relaxed at the low bass of his voice, the sound vibrating in his chest like a loud purr. “It was a dream.” You whispered. “Just a bad dream. It’s not real.”

 

“It was real to you, that’s all that matters.” Elias replied. “If you want to talk, that’s fine. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

 

“It didn’t matter so much before. I was used to waking up alone in the apartment.” You tried to rationalize your jumbled thoughts and emotions. “I was so used to just waking up, wandering out here and going back to sleep on the couch.”

 

“What happened tonight?”

 

“I dreamed you were out here.” You blurted out the words before you could think, mentally kicking yourself for doing so.

 

He stiffened up. “What?”

 

“I um. Dreamed that you had been gone, and that you came home from your tour. You were in the living room, but something was wrong, something had happened.” You shook your head. “You didn’t look like you. I don’t know, it’s all a blur. I just remember being _uncomfortable_ , something wasn’t right.”

 

“And then you woke up?” Elias prompted after a few seconds had passed.

 

You grimaced. “Hopefully, right? Your jaw dropped off so you could swallow me whole.”

 

Elias chuckled. “Well if this is a continuation, shouldn’t I be trying to eat you?”

 

“Ugh, gods, don’t even joke.” You shuddered. “Your jaw _fell_ _off_ and you were making this awful noise.”

 

“I’m sorry. I know it was vivid. But hey, I’m right here. My jaw bones are where they’re supposed to be and I haven’t craved human flesh for _weeks_.” Elias smoothed your hair out on your forehead. “That’s what you get for watching Predator before bedtime.”

 

“It wasn’t _Predator!_ ” You protested. “I’m not nearly enough of a baby to be scared by Predator. That would be like saying I’m scared of Ivan Drago.”

 

“Dolph Lundgren doesn’t scare you?”

 

“ _What_ , why would he?”

 

“He’s huge!”

 

“Yeah, and?”

 

“Whaddya’ mean, ‘ _and_ ’?! He looks like he eats guys like me for breakfast!” Elias squawked.

 

“Guess you’d better watch out then. He might swap his Wheaties for some Elias over easy.” You snickered.

 

“You’re all heart, sugar.” Samson grinned down at you, his smile softening after a moment. “Are you going to be alright to sleep? I know I’ve got you joking now, but that doesn’t mean you’re okay.”

 

“I should be fine now. I’ll go back to my room.” You moved to sit up, but Elias tugged gently at the ends of your hair.

 

“Stay a little longer. I don’t mind doing this.” He murmured. You stared at him wide-eyed for what felt like an eternity and he coughed, breaking eye contact. “What? Do I have something in my beard?” He asked.

 

“I…I should go back to my room.” Your voice was shaky, hands twisting over one another in your lap. _What’s the big deal?_ You chided yourself. _Cool it!_

 

Elias’ gaze focused on your mouth momentarily, then snapped back up to your eyes. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He was all but whispering now, his fingers continuing to card through your hair. “You could stay out here, if you’d like.”

 

“I should go back to my room.” You repeated weakly. Elias inclined his head, removing his fingers from your hair. You fought a pitiful noise in your throat at the loss of his touch, unsteadily getting to your feet. “Thank you.” You mumbled.

 

Elias stood as well and wrapped you in a tight hug, his eyes full of worry when he stepped back again. “Sleep good, alright?” His voice was so soft. You nodded, not trusting yourself to reply.

 

You slept fitfully for the duration of the night.

 

…

 

You had never met anyone _quite_ like Elias Samson.

 

After that night, you began looking forward to the three (or so) days he was home every two weeks, waiting up for him to breeze through the door. Truth be told you liked his company, though you wouldn’t go so far as to say that you _missed_ him (at least, not out loud).

 

He usually announced his arrival with the typical ‘shave and a haircut’ knock, laughing in the hallway one night when you yelled “ _two bits!_ ” in reply instead of opening the door for him. You had been up to your elbows in ingredients for cornbread mix and he strode into the kitchen, washed his hands and asked “ _how can I help?_ ”

Your floral-print apron became _his_ floral-print apron somewhere along the way. It amused you immensely that he didn’t care about the pattern or the ruffles on the edges, the large man obviously well past the point of worrying about silly things like that. Elias’ pragmatic attitude was a refreshing change from the guys you were usually surrounded with in your day to day life, but when you told him that all he did was chuckle. He didn’t seem to think he was a rarity at all, which blew your mind.

 

Samson wore loudly-patterned sheer shrugs (he called them kimonos, but you were fairly certain that they would have been called shrugs or cover-ups by anyone else), and he pulled them off startlingly well. It helped that the rest of his wardrobe was minimalist; plain t-shirts or tank tops, one of three pairs of jeans in varying states of disrepair, and his battered but well-polished boots. He still somehow managed to make himself look put-together and presentable no matter how little time he had to do so, taming his thick hair with relative ease by winding a scarf around it. You were a bit envious of his innate skill, if you were being honest. Your preparation time, while not horror-story levels, was still more than you cared for. Add in the usual stigma of ‘ _women take forever to get ready_ ’ and you ended up enjoying a fine cocktail of panicked self-awareness every time you took more than ten minutes to get dressed.

 

“How do you do it?” You asked Elias one night as the two of you were folding laundry. “You’re not secretly a fashion guru, are you?”

 

“It’s all in how you carry yourself.” He replied simply. “It doesn’t matter how long I have to get ready, and I already know that everything I own is probably second-hand. But I don’t need to _act_ like I’m wearing hand-me-downs. I don’t need to play the role of my duds, y’know?” Elias got to his feet, wrapping one of his scarves around the bun of his hair. “These little beauties do _wonders_ at taming my frizzy mane, too. They’re bright and colorful, takes the attention away from the fact that I look like a…well, a starving musician.” He grimaced.

 

“So what you’re saying…” You began slowly, standing up yourself. “…is that the clothes don’t make the man?”

 

“Succinct.” Elias nodded, still playing with the ends of the scarf in his hair. “I couldn’t think of that term for some reason, but that’s exactly it. Listen, I…” He paused, his brow furrowing. “Why do you ask?

 

“Oh! I was just curious, that’s all.” You lied hurriedly. You fidgeted with the tank tops in your arms, focused on smoothing away imaginary wrinkles.

 

“May I?” Elias asked, the scarf from his hair wound around his hand now. The hand that was currently tilting your chin up. You made a noise of agreement in your throat, watching how his eyes roved over your face, your hair. He hummed quietly, almost to himself, studying you with an entirely foreign intentness.

 

The scarf was drawn between his hands, wrapped over his palms and then draped behind your head. You didn’t realize that your eyes had all but closed until you felt his hand brush your cheek.

 

“There.” He murmured. “That pattern looks good on you. You have the perfect skin tone for it.” He adjusted the makeshift headband, cinching the knot a tad lower. “These are easy to tie up, even if you’re running late or in a hurry. Nice and simple. Depending how much time you’ve had beforehand to brush your hair, you can also adjust it so it covers most of the problem areas.”

 

“Th-thank you.” You stammered, certain your face was bright red.

 

Samson took his armful of shirts from you and you started to fumble with the scarf, but he made a clicking noise with his tongue. “No, hang onto that one. It looks better on you anyhow.”

 

_It looks better on you anyhow_.

 

You knew it was dumb, _girly_ behavior, but you wore the scarf in your hair the next day. Wrapped like how Elias had done it, the knot comfortably settled on the right side of your head. At first, you kept reaching up to adjust it or play with it, but as the day went on you forgot it was even there. Until one of your coworkers asked where you had gotten it, of course.

 

“A friend of mine gave it to me, I’m not exactly sure where he picked it up.” You admitted, untying the material on the slim chance that there might be a tag or manufacturer’s logo somewhere on it. But all that met your eyes were neatly-stitched hems. “I can ask him where he found it, if you want?”

 

“A _guy_ friend?” Your coworker queried instead, sounding incredulous. “It looks so nice though!”

 

“Well yeah, of course it does.” You answered flippantly, shaking your head at her after you retied the scarf. “It’s on me, naturally it’s going to look nice.”

 

She chuckled. “I meant more that he picked out something so pretty. Is this _friend_ your roommate guy?”

 

“H-He’s not-” You began to protest before you realized what she had actually said, and then hurriedly scrambled to correct yourself, “I mean yes, he’s my roommate, but he’s not like, _mine_ , you know?”

 

“Mmhm.” She narrowed her eyes at you and you cleared your throat, toying with the ends of the scarf. “He’s got great taste, I’ll give him that much.” She said finally with a wink, making you sputter.

 

…

 

You were certain that you were melting. The fan was doing absolutely no good, and neither was having the door to the deck open. The heat crushed down like an invisible hand and you sighed unhappily. The scarf that Elias had given you was currently serving as a breast band, the sheer cloth giving you the bare minimum of coverage while offering superior air flow. Your boxers were at least comfortable, the galactic pattern spread out loosely over your thighs. The thought of wearing regular underwear made you want to scream. You just thanked God that Elias wasn’t due home for another two days. There was no _way_ you would be dressed like this if he was in the apartment, you couldn’t even imagine how off-putting that might be.

 

It was so humid that the air felt _thick_. All you could do was slump on the couch with a popsicle in your mouth, watching an Animal Planet special about seals with rapt attention. The Arctic looked _incredibly_ inviting this time of year, with those towering glaciers and miles of thick ice.

 

Meanwhile, you were suffering and your skin was sticking to the pleather of your sofa.

 

You groaned, peeling yourself off the surface and trudging into the bathroom to get a beach towel to lay on. It took a little digging to find one; they hadn’t been used since last year so they were in a lump at the very back of the towel shelf. Your popsicle was dripping down your chin and you hurriedly wiped off the purple trail with a washcloth, then headed back down the hall while shaking out the towel.

 

“ _On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?_ ”

 

Elias was home, you realized.

 

Elias was home _early_.

 

Elias was home early, quoting Meat Loaf, and he was _staring at you_. You made a horrified gurgling noise around your popsicle and fumbled to cover yourself with the towel. “Ah! You’re not supposed to be home!” You exclaimed after you pulled the popsicle out of your mouth.

 

Elias’ lips twitched behind his beard and then he started smiling, _laughing_ , as you stood there. “Oh, oh _Jesus_. Holy fuck.” He wheezed finally. “I’m–with the popsicle and everything, I just-” He wiped his eyes and straightened back up, still smiling broadly. “You’re too cute.”

 

“How dare you.” You grumbled, adjusting the towel, “I am _not_ -”

 

“You bundled up like I’ve never seen someone in their skivvies before, sugar. I know it’s hot. It’s okay.” He said gently.

 

“I was _sticking_ to the _couch_.” You announced authoritatively, as if that would explain your current situation.

 

“You wanna’ close everything up and turn on the A/C in my room?” Elias offered after he was done snickering about you becoming one with the sofa.

 

“ _You_ have an air conditioner?” You asked incredulously.

 

“I thought you knew. Sleep is somethin’ that I can’t afford to skimp on.” Elias explained. “And I can’t sleep if I’m too hot. You close the windows and curtains, I’ll get it crankin’ and we’ll put your fan in my doorway.” Having said as much, he stripped off his shirt.

 

You hoped your gulp wasn’t as loud as it sounded in your ears. You were _obviously_ being tested by some higher power, barely managing to tear your eyes away from following a bead of sweat down his sculpted abdomen. “Right, yeah, absolutely.” You said in a rush. Samson grinned at you suddenly and you felt your body temperature skyrocket.

 

“I told you that scarf looked better on you.” He murmured, grazing his fingers over the sloppy knot you had tied in between your shoulder blades on his way to his room. “I haven’t tried pulling off the ‘crop top’ look. Might need a few pointers.”

 

“Elias, are you, um…” _Are you flirting with me? Are you flirting with me? Am I someone that you’re interested in?_ The words caught in your throat; it would be too embarrassing if you were wrong, if you’d picked up the wrong signals. “A-A-Are you tired?” You stammered instead, confused by the look he leveled at you. Brows drawn, brown eyes dark in contemplation, an intent stare that made your skin tingle.

 

“A little.” He replied slowly, the statement carrying more gravity than it seemed to need. “Let me get this taken care of and then I’ll worry about that, alright?”

 

“Okay.” You continued to chip away at your popsicle while he was propping your fan up by his door, the cooler air a welcome reprieve to your sticky body.

 

“So, I was wondering.” Elias began, his expression bemused as he watched you all but embrace the fan. “I got off tour a few days early and I was…I was _hoping_ that maybe you were uh–well, still available.” He folded his arms across his chest, building an impenetrable wall for you to stare up at in total confusion. “You know. _Available_.” Elias stressed the word, watching you closely.

 

“'Available’?” You repeated in disbelief.

 

Samson exhaled heavily through his nose. “Yes.”

 

“Like…romantically?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I…Elias, I must be hotter than I thought, I’m sorry, I could have sworn you just-”

 

“Is it _really_ so difficult to believe?” He interrupted you, his face softening when you nodded dumbly. “Well. You didn’t mishear me. And obviously I don’t need an answer right this second. I just figured now was a good time, since I’ll have almost a full week off. Plenty of time for you to get tired of me.” There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice when he said that.

 

“Sh-Shouldn’t you spend your time off _resting?_ ” You protested.

 

Elias shook his head. “When am I going to have another opportunity like this one?” He pointed out practically. “When will I get another chance to ask out my gorgeous roomie?”

 

“ _Gorgeous_ , holy shit, I think you’re in the wrong apartment.” You mumbled, thoroughly bewildered.

 

Samson tipped your chin up, his eyes searching your own. “I’m _definitely_ in the right apartment.” He whispered. “The real question is if you wanna’ sample the goods before you make a firm choice. I’m a man of my word, sugar, so if you don’t like what I do, we’ll stop here and go back to the way things were. Y’know, I flirt with you gently, you blush all sweet, and nothin’ else needs to happen.”

 

Your mouth went dry.

 

“But you need to ask for it. What do you want from me, sugar? You look… _hungry_.” He was still whispering in that low, soft voice. It made your legs tremble.

 

“Can I…” You swallowed hard. “ _May_ I have a kiss? Please?”

 

“A whole fair’s worth of goods, and all she ever asks for is a rose.” Elias’ smile was brighter than you’d ever seen it. “You may.” He cupped the back of your neck. His mouth met yours in a tease, a taste, still smiling as he kissed you for the first time. His facial hair scraped your skin and you shivered, gripping his upper arms tightly. “How was that?” He asked, resting his forehead against yours.

 

“Can…Can I ask for more?” You shyly traced your fingers over the muscle of his arms and he groaned in his throat, shaking his hair back out of his face. His skin was slick with sweat and jumping under your touch, almost as though he was as nervous as you were.

 

“You can have as much as you want.” He pressed your back to the wall. “What do you want?” Without missing a beat, Elias smoothly swallowed down the popsicle you still had in your hand and _oh_ , okay then. His teeth snapped together on the stick and purple juice trickled out from between his lips as he slid the remains of the frozen treat into his mouth. “Sorry, I figured you were probably finished with it.” He looked almost apologetic. Almost.

 

You tossed the stick aside and pressed your lips back to his, feeling a jolt go down your spine at the cold sensation of his tongue. Elias growled, threading his fingers through your hair while he patiently let you explore his mouth. “I want…” Your voice shook and faded, _how_ could you ask him for something like that?

 

“Whatever it is, it’s yours.” He breathed, his fingers working over your scalp. “Anything you want.” You flushed bright red, taking his hands out of your hair and bringing them to rest on your chest. He exhaled hard, but his gaze refused to waver from your face. “Is that what you want? You want my hands on you? You want me to touch you? Like how I would if we were together?” He asked softly. “You want me to _fuck_ you?” His thumbs raked over your sensitive skin and you shuddered when he cupped your breasts through the thin material of the scarf. “If you want it, if you want to _try me on_ , sugar, you have to _say it_.”

 

“I do.”

 

He looked surprised for a split second before his brow furrowed again. “Against the wall?” He gritted out in the tone of something barely-leashed. “Or on my bed?”

 

“Right here.” You were starting to enjoy the fact that you could throw him off his game, if only for a moment.

 

“You’re _perfect_.” Elias snarled, propping you up onto his hips without so much as a noise of exertion. You felt his cock, curved and already hardening even through his worn jeans, rubbing up against the seam of your boxers and you made a sound that was embarrassingly desperate. “I won’t say that I didn’t hope for this kinda’ outcome.” His gaze was intense, thoughtful. “Seems like you may have an attraction to me as well.”

 

“Don’t _tease_ me, please.” You begged, hiding your face with your hands.

 

Elias tugged one hand back down, tenderly kissing each knuckle before turning it over and planting a single kiss on your palm. “I’m not teasing.” He assured you, smiling. “Let’s get these boxers off of you.” With a boldness you didn’t own, you slid your hand down his torso. Nails lightly scratching his abdomen, you moved lower, staring in fascination at the way his hips jerked as you reached the dark hair on his stomach and traveled further down. “Now who’s teasing?” Elias whispered, and when you looked up he was staring at you, biting his lower lip. “Want me to take mine off first?” He asked.

 

At your nod, Samson let you ease down the wall until your feet hit the floor, and then he started fighting with the broken zipper of his jeans. It was held together with safety pins and your fear that he would jab himself came true when he suddenly swore and popped his index finger into his mouth.

 

“ _Fuck_ , fuck it.” He grunted, grabbing both sides of the fabric and literally tearing the seat of his jeans apart at the zipper seam. “Been due for a while, I guess.” He continued in an offhanded tone, leaving the offending article of clothing in a heap around his feet.

 

“Oh.” You gulped. “Can I buy you another pair of jeans? Can we go jeans shopping?” You asked earnestly, sidetracked by the wanton destruction of his own property. He was normally so painstaking–

 

“Who says I can’t fix those?” Elias grinned, playfully snapping the waistband of your boxers and then sliding them down until they dropped. “But that’s an idea. _We_.” He continued.

 

“We.” You echoed. He dragged you to his chest, kissing you again and propping you back up on his hips. His cock arched against your cunt, parting your pussy lips to prod and shift back and forth over your slick entrance as he held you close.

 

“I love this on you.” He confessed, hooking the scarf beneath your breasts and tugging the material upwards. “It’s perfect, just like the rest of you.”

 

“Elias, please.” You whimpered, stroking what you could reach of his cock. “ _Please_.”

 

“Alright sugar, alright.” He soothed, brushing your hair back from your face. “The neighbors-” You caught his face and kissed him greedily, eliciting a low rumble of, “ _Christ_.” He finally pushed his cock into you, his hands grasping at your hips while you buried your face in his shoulder. His mouth pressed to your ear, words hotter than your skin washing over you. “Just enjoy the _ride_ , sugar.”

 

“That’s not f-fair-” You panted, digging your teeth into his muscular shoulder and giggling when his motions faltered. His hold on you tightened, strong arms easily keeping you secure against his body while he thrust up into you slow and _deep_. He was so much _larger_ than you; you felt small and delicate in his embrace and you practically melted against him. Then, an unwelcome flicker of worry cut through your arousal like a hot knife through butter. “El-Elias, are you-”

 

“If you can still talk, I obviously have to work harder.” He half-groaned the sentence in your ear, nipping at the sensitive skin when he was done.

 

“I just–wanted to m-make sure I’m not too heavy f-for you–“ You managed to get out, ducking your face back into his shoulder to hide your embarrassment.

 

“Do I sound like you are?” Elias asked, “Do _you_ feel like you are?”

 

“I-I mean, usually yes, b-but– _ah!_ ” You cried out when he hooked your knees over his arms, hips rocking up fluidly to meet your own.

 

“You’re not exactly an anvil, sugar.” He pointed out, smirking. As if to prove his point, Samson raised you entirely off of his cock. Your head bumped the ceiling and you gasped, startled and turned on by the strength he displayed so casually. “Like I said, _perfect_.” He grunted. You squirmed a little, unused to the sensation of someone’s positive attention focused so thoroughly on you and his eyes softened. “Back to business.”

 

He brought you back down and you laid your head on his shoulder, hearing him heave a long sigh at the motion before he picked up where he left off. Doing his damnedest to fuck you through the wall.

 

“You are so _fucking_ tight.” He gasped, moaning when you dragged your fingernails over the broad expanse of his shoulder blades. “How the fuck are you this tight? God, _God_ , I could get used to this.” He laved at the skin of your shoulder with his tongue, sucking and nibbling tiny love bites to life. You dug your fingers into his hair, softly chanting his name and begging for more. “Could get used to that too, _fuck_ you’re gonna’ make me come-“

 

Elias moved in even _closer_ , holding you up with one arm as he crushed his pelvis to your pubic mound and slowly, _slowly_ circled his hips. His cock entirely sheathed in you combined with his pelvis grinding against your clit made you cry out, eyes wide.

 

“Yeah? You like that? Show me how much you like it, sugar.” He crooned, cupping the back of your neck with his free hand and kissing you fiercely. You kissed back just as hard, your legs trembling while he continued to grind and stroke his body against yours. You felt ravenous, chasing the high of your orgasm, your senses full of nothing but _Elias_ and gods you wanted to come, you _needed_ to come–

 

And then you did.

 

Samson canted his hips _just_ so and you buried your face in his hair, all but screaming his name as you came apart under his powerful ministrations. He grunted, your name leaving his mouth through teeth pressed together in a fierce snarl before he came as well.

 

You knew that you were officially dead weight but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, shivering as you felt his cock pulse and twitch inside you. Elias gave a low, drawn-out moan of satisfaction, slowly sinking down onto his haunches and taking you with him to the floor. “Sugar, Jesus.” He breathed, sounding absolutely wrecked. You weren’t much better yourself, clinging to him as tightly as you could manage with your shaking limbs. Elias combed his fingers through your hair soothingly, peppering kisses onto your neck and the side of your face that he could reach. “Jesus _Christ_ , sugar.”

 

“You okay? M’ I hurting you?” You mumbled when you could talk again, your voice a little raspy.

 

“God _damn_. If that’s what you think will hurt me, I’d like to take more punishment.” He panted. “A _lot_ more.” You bit down on his shoulder and he made a choking noise, shooting you a fierce look through his hair. “Hey, we _just_ finished! Gotta’ give me a minute to recover, teeth aren’t fair. Did you mark me up?” He asked, trying to see the spot you had, quite frankly, _savaged_. “ _Oh_ , that’s great. That’s fucking _great_.” Elias grinned, his expression hungry. “Full of surprises, aren’t you.”

 

You fidgeted shyly with the scarf around your breasts, trying in vain to straighten the material out. “Sorry.” You apologized, startled when Elias tipped your chin up.

 

“Stop bein’ so sweet, sugar.” He chuckled. “We just fucked against a wall. And I gave as good as I got.” He gave you a long, hungry kiss, purring into your mouth as he palmed over the marks he had made on your shoulders. “I take it you enjoyed your free trial of Elias?”

 

“You’ve nearly convinced me to purchase the full version of Elias.” You teased, making him laugh that nigh-explosive laugh, the one that let you know you’d _really_ caught him off-guard.

 

“ _Nearly?_ Damn woman, you drive a hard bargain. I don’t suppose there’s any other way I can convince you…?”

 

…

 

“ _I wish I could do better by you, because that’s what you deserve…_ ” You were stirred from your blissful doze by Elias’ soft singing, the large man holding you close and stroking your hair. He hummed under his breath, pressing kisses to the crown of your head and then continuing, “ _While I’m off chasin’ my own dreams, sailin’ around the world, please know that I’m yours to keep, my beautiful girl_ …”

 

Another song that you hadn’t heard before. You snuggled into his chest, tucking your head securely underneath his chin. His singing faltered and his hands shifted to your hips, rubbing nervous circles into the skin. “Why’d you stop?” You asked sleepily.

 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He sounded guilty.

 

You shook your head, shimmying up his body to peck him on the lips. “Keep singing. I like it.” Elias cleared his throat and you kissed the side of his jaw, your skin still tingling pleasantly from the burn of his facial hair. “Please?”

 

At your insistence he settled back down, fingers tapping out a rhythm on your bare hips as he carried on in a whisper that was barely audible over the air conditioning, “ _You don’t ask for no diamond rings, no delicate string of pearls, that’s why I wrote this song to sing, my beautiful girl_ …”

**Author's Note:**

> [Songs in order are: The Death of Me by City And Colour, The Beginning (A Simple Seed) and Vagabonds by The Classic Crime, You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth by Meat Loaf, and The Girl by City And Colour.]


End file.
